aphoristic to the least, say, on-going
furtive demands screamed over an intercom
exhausted
eyes rolled back
truse scale of the event, only now
woken to the re-builders of America
scorched, burning caramel yet their facia
cared for keeps a white front
gleaming
glaring over a scolded Joe
the blackest of the guys
nor the facia
the clack-clack tippy-tap ain't comin' back
call out clocked in compassed responce to the degree of
Our Mecca
be tracked to the mile signaled in pixelated arrow
ain't comin' back
till my work here is done:
awaiting confirmation
from mission control:
sent.
She walked past,
tight blue A-line clinging,
bullet nips from the AC
straight to the balcony
You need to keep them in check
You don't need to tell me all these problems
I don't need to know
Wish I had known a little more. Arrival: A day earlier than anyone expected. Especially myself. Sat bolt upright, staring out into the white white void of a cloud city and realized what an idiot I was. That I'm living in the then; the last century of travel. It doesn't take a day to get anywhere. Not when the food's this good and the screens this giving.
Arrival: Monday. Not Tuesday. Perhaps (and this thinking wishful, attempts another on this life to evade responcibility) I did read the details wrong. Mixedup (+ 1 day); cross breeding threads in the grey matter resulting retarded pedigrees = my detriment.
Now lugging luggage up and down and on and off the subway levels.
Seemingly a heck of a lot more complex than London's: Again; this is because I am the New, and the subway is the Old, the set, the functioning- forcing my feeble patters of a prototype around and about its endemic system.
Just got here- one heck of a ride though. Arrived a day earlier than I told the couple I'n staying with- and then they don't pick up the phone. End up scamming a taxi to the subway, have directiosn screamed at me through an intercom, catch ...the wrong train, catch the right train, walk for ages asking all and sundry directions, find the joint, blag my way thru the doors, up the elevator, at the door, spare keyed in, sat here now eating pad thai noodles and planning my next move. Just seen their calendar on their wall: September 6th: WEDDING.
FACEPALM+HEADDESK+¦-^ .
Cue Derrida [clapperboard]
Indeed, I was and still am- at the point of typing this on their balcony overseeing construction workers building a new apartment, the glistening river in the distant and what I hope with all my heart is a Manhattan Skyscraper in the distant right. As we began our descent on American soil, the pilot swings the jetplane so that the wing tilts and we see in the approaching azure the skyline of a million postcard sized daydreams - the skyscrapers of Manhattan. HEARTMOUTH: and not from the change in altitude- for once.
I am the suprise for my hosts at their second home in Upstate New York celebrating their Wedding. Yet I wouldn't consider myself an absolute on any level, but certainly an arrivant. Surely, as Derrida later expounds, the absolute arrivant is a privilidged temporal position for something. Upon my return to Falmouth, I will again have this status of being an arrivant, but rather than attempt to suspend any fallacious act of maintenance as an absolute arrivant, I will actively seek to colonize a New Land for a New World upon the predefined land of those who know or think they know their land...
Yet, the second I step out of this apartmnet and begin my walks around the city searching for a commision free ATM and a grocery store, my position as an absolute arrivant will begin to be deconstructed and demolished with every step I take in the New World of New York.
Dita slathered on the prow, wielding the flag we are travel under, even if I find repulsive.
Cannot believe it. I've made it. I'm HERE.
And this time there's no flashback, nothing but the words washed over my HEaRT when We reached the other side of the wide wide river.
for there my hart remains
As soon as we enter a New City, we immediately begin reading, we immediately become relient on having all of our wits about us reading the textual and symbolic signs on the street, the subway, the postal codes and apartment names on letter boxes, the fold-out maps pressed anxiously into our hands. Hell kid, good luck to ya'. Hope you find yur folks. Our relience often becomes so dependant on the continual, directive presence of these signs that once they end and reach their finitude, the anxiety and helpless abandon we feel as arrivants overwhelms us more than our being-in-the-new, our urban unfamiliarity.
Especially in America , and even more so in NYC, our ability to chain signification needs to be rapid as it is contiously corrigible; as quick as her bike chainges gear.
The second I stepped out of the subway and onto the grid system of the streets, I needed to have all my confidence and trust that I was walking down the right road , all the way down the right road, to find the next set of co-ordinates to find the intersection of my desire:
(safety, refuge) minus (vulnerable, tourist)
Text Task 7#: Mark a set of co-ordinates on a map of the city- walk to these co-ordinates, now rewrite and translate these co-ordinates from numerical foms totextual/ alphabetical/idiographic forms using the paradeigm of (text, text)- you may wish to describe the co-ordinates, ask locals to describe it for you, take existing text and rewrite/reconfigure to the paradeigm etc. - then continue to your next set of co-ordinates = next new location- repeat their textual translation- Once you have finished walking writing and encountering each of the co-ordinates, retrace your steps and repeat the textual translation of the same co-ordinates but find new things to describe and detail about the place you have already been to.
The New is as much via negativa as what you don't tell your kids.
Which end up being the best things they learn from you.
furtive demands screamed over an intercom
exhausted
eyes rolled back
truse scale of the event, only now
woken to the re-builders of America
scorched, burning caramel yet their facia
cared for keeps a white front
gleaming
glaring over a scolded Joe
the blackest of the guys
nor the facia
the clack-clack tippy-tap ain't comin' back
call out clocked in compassed responce to the degree of
Our Mecca
be tracked to the mile signaled in pixelated arrow
ain't comin' back
till my work here is done:
awaiting confirmation
from mission control:
sent.
She walked past,
tight blue A-line clinging,
bullet nips from the AC
straight to the balcony
You need to keep them in check
You don't need to tell me all these problems
I don't need to know
Wish I had known a little more. Arrival: A day earlier than anyone expected. Especially myself. Sat bolt upright, staring out into the white white void of a cloud city and realized what an idiot I was. That I'm living in the then; the last century of travel. It doesn't take a day to get anywhere. Not when the food's this good and the screens this giving.
Arrival: Monday. Not Tuesday. Perhaps (and this thinking wishful, attempts another on this life to evade responcibility) I did read the details wrong. Mixedup (+ 1 day); cross breeding threads in the grey matter resulting retarded pedigrees = my detriment.
Now lugging luggage up and down and on and off the subway levels.
Seemingly a heck of a lot more complex than London's: Again; this is because I am the New, and the subway is the Old, the set, the functioning- forcing my feeble patters of a prototype around and about its endemic system.
Just got here- one heck of a ride though. Arrived a day earlier than I told the couple I'n staying with- and then they don't pick up the phone. End up scamming a taxi to the subway, have directiosn screamed at me through an intercom, catch ...the wrong train, catch the right train, walk for ages asking all and sundry directions, find the joint, blag my way thru the doors, up the elevator, at the door, spare keyed in, sat here now eating pad thai noodles and planning my next move. Just seen their calendar on their wall: September 6th: WEDDING.
FACEPALM+HEADDESK+¦-^ .
Cue Derrida [clapperboard]
"the citizen of a given identifiable country crosses the border of another country as a traveler, an emigré or poilitcal exile, a refugee or someone who has been deported, an immigrant worker, a student or researcher, a diplomat or a tourist. Those are all, of course, arrivants, but in a country that is already defined and in which the inhabitants know or think they know they are at home... No I am talking about the absolute arrivant, who is not even a guest. He suprises the host- who is not yet a host or an inviting power... The absolute arrivant does not yet have a name or an identity. It is not not an invader or an occupier, nor is a colonizer, even if it can become one... "
Indeed, I was and still am- at the point of typing this on their balcony overseeing construction workers building a new apartment, the glistening river in the distant and what I hope with all my heart is a Manhattan Skyscraper in the distant right. As we began our descent on American soil, the pilot swings the jetplane so that the wing tilts and we see in the approaching azure the skyline of a million postcard sized daydreams - the skyscrapers of Manhattan. HEARTMOUTH: and not from the change in altitude- for once.
I am the suprise for my hosts at their second home in Upstate New York celebrating their Wedding. Yet I wouldn't consider myself an absolute on any level, but certainly an arrivant. Surely, as Derrida later expounds, the absolute arrivant is a privilidged temporal position for something. Upon my return to Falmouth, I will again have this status of being an arrivant, but rather than attempt to suspend any fallacious act of maintenance as an absolute arrivant, I will actively seek to colonize a New Land for a New World upon the predefined land of those who know or think they know their land...
Yet, the second I step out of this apartmnet and begin my walks around the city searching for a commision free ATM and a grocery store, my position as an absolute arrivant will begin to be deconstructed and demolished with every step I take in the New World of New York.
Dita slathered on the prow, wielding the flag we are travel under, even if I find repulsive.
Cannot believe it. I've made it. I'm HERE.
And this time there's no flashback, nothing but the words washed over my HEaRT when We reached the other side of the wide wide river.
for there my hart remains
As soon as we enter a New City, we immediately begin reading, we immediately become relient on having all of our wits about us reading the textual and symbolic signs on the street, the subway, the postal codes and apartment names on letter boxes, the fold-out maps pressed anxiously into our hands. Hell kid, good luck to ya'. Hope you find yur folks. Our relience often becomes so dependant on the continual, directive presence of these signs that once they end and reach their finitude, the anxiety and helpless abandon we feel as arrivants overwhelms us more than our being-in-the-new, our urban unfamiliarity.
Especially in America , and even more so in NYC, our ability to chain signification needs to be rapid as it is contiously corrigible; as quick as her bike chainges gear.
The second I stepped out of the subway and onto the grid system of the streets, I needed to have all my confidence and trust that I was walking down the right road , all the way down the right road, to find the next set of co-ordinates to find the intersection of my desire:
(safety, refuge) minus (vulnerable, tourist)
Text Task 7#: Mark a set of co-ordinates on a map of the city- walk to these co-ordinates, now rewrite and translate these co-ordinates from numerical foms totextual/ alphabetical/idiographic forms using the paradeigm of (text, text)- you may wish to describe the co-ordinates, ask locals to describe it for you, take existing text and rewrite/reconfigure to the paradeigm etc. - then continue to your next set of co-ordinates = next new location- repeat their textual translation- Once you have finished walking writing and encountering each of the co-ordinates, retrace your steps and repeat the textual translation of the same co-ordinates but find new things to describe and detail about the place you have already been to.
The New is as much via negativa as what you don't tell your kids.
Which end up being the best things they learn from you.
No comments:
Post a Comment